rent asunder
by sickphilosophy
Summary: When the opportunity came for Ichigo to attend the Shinho Academy for a summer to control his Kido, a Shinigami power he had never mastered, it was Kuchiki Rukia who said the right words to have him accept the idea.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Needed some ichiruki in my life again, know what I'm saying?

I've gone in and out with keeping up with the manga, so I'm pretty bad with my Bleach timeline (and honestly I'm kind of confused with what's going on in Bleach altogether), but this story takes place after the two-year gap.

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THE SEVENTEEN MONTHS that had kept them apart did nothing to compromise their bond, built with something fierce, something sustainable. It was obvious to everyone that Kurosaki Ichigo and Kuchiki Rukia would never allow another rift like that to happen between them again, and even though Rukia had earned her lieutenant seating amongst the Gotei 13 (along with all the painstaking work that came with it), her frequents to the Kurosaki household in Karakura never stopped.

As for Ichigo, he was slow to admit that the day he was able to see Rukia again was one of the brightest fucking days of his life.

It's not like she didn't know. Ichigo knew for a fact she could see right through him. Could see how malleable he became in front of her. He hated it. He hated how easy it was to be manipulated and controlled by _Lady _Rukia of _the Noble Kuchiki Clan_, because she _made the rain stop_ and yadda yadda yadda…

And when the opportunity came for Ichigo to apply to the Shinho Academy for a summer to control his Kido, a Shinigami power he had never mastered_,_ it was Kuchiki Rukia who said the right words to have him accept the idea.

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THE SHINHO ACADEMY would not make admissions simple for Ichigo. Even Urahara admitted an interview seemed like a waste of time. But this was Soul Society, and this was the Gotei 13. And simple logic, as always, gave way to tradition.

This meant the weeks that Karakura High School demanded its students focus on final exams were also the weeks Ichigo was studying general Soul Society history from books and scrolls smuggled in by Urahara. And on the long nights Ichigo had endured to cram the information of two worlds into his brain, Rukia had been lazily perched on his desk in a complacent form of moral support, her face tucked between a book she had stolen from the high school's library.

And because she was an opportunistic type of person, Rukia would slide her homework in front of him as he leaned back in the chair for a five-minute break.

…

…

"WHAT'S WITH THE face Inoue?"

They had all gathered to the school's rooftops to offer Ichigo some friendly affection that would have to last him all summer. There was Chad: Ichigo's closest school friend of few words and absolute loyalty, and Uryu Ishida: a school-time enemy turned friend turned war-time enemy turned friend yet again (the trust had not yet fully recovered, and was still in a state of mending). There was Keigo, Mizuiro, and Tatsuki: childhood friends who had learned and accepted the truth of who Ichigo really was.

And then there was Inoue. The ever loving, ever kind, ever _powerful_ classmate of Ichigo's, who had been frowning during this whole ceremony of goodbyes.

And because she wouldn't answer, Ichigo asked again, a laugh tucked into his words. "What's with the face? Aren't you gonna visit me in Seireitei? I need you to make sure this thing," he patted the top of Rukia's head, "doesn't kill me in the process."

But Inoue's face hadn't changed. And even when Ichigo came forward to push her chin up, she shook her head away, completely distressed over something she had no interest in talking about. So instead, Ichigo took to mumbling something in her ear that Rukia nor the others could hear from where they were standing, and Orihime collapsed into him, shaking arms wrapped around his neck in a sloppy and endearing embrace.

It's as if Orihime had known that when Ichigo came back to her, back to this home town she shared with him, he would be a different entity entirely. Possibly with different ambitions. Different desires. Ichigo would want different things in life.

Rukia thought this as Orihime's eyes flickered to her.

Ichigo would want different things in life. In more ways than one.

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URAHARA HAD AGREED to accompany the two through the Senkaimon on the day Ichigo was to leave his family. "It's time I visited old friends, anyway," he explained. Rukia and the shopkeeper had kept a distance from the Kurosaki family, who were saying their loving (and animated) goodbyes to their young man. "It's only a summer, Yuzu," Ichigo cooed to his sister, who had wrapped herself fiercely to his waist, bawling. Karin had already fixed herself into a posture and scowl that Rukia noticed resembled too much like her older brother.

"Don't you think a summer is too short to learn Kido, Rukia-chan?" Urahara asked her conversationally. "Three months is an unbelievably small amount of time to master a Reiatsu as powerful as Ichigo's."

"His Reiatsu is powerful because _he's_ powerful, Urahara-san," she reminded. Rukia had once left a fifteen-year-old Ichigo for dead, and three months later, she had been rescued by this same boy, Bankai established, battling on par with her brother. "A summer can be enough time for a man like Ichigo."

"A man? Kurosaki is a man now, then?"

Rukia's eyes flickered over Ichigo's body as he staggered toward them. Urahara noticed this and laughed.

"A man," was all she said.

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RUKIA WAS SPRINTING down the copper-colored porch of the Gotei Thirteen Offices towards the Meeting Hall, dragging Kurosaki Ichigo along by his hastily fastened hakama sash. He was late. Rukia had not even bothered to acknowledge the crowd of newly admitted Shinigami students who stood in awe to see two _true soul society heroes _in the flesh. There was no time for diplomatic smiles and small talk, but in her anger, she still managed to croak out one quick question at Ichigo.

"What was the one thing—?"

"Rukia, not this again."

"What was that _one_ thing I told you not to do?_"_

"Don't be late—"

Rukia's screech traveled far into the fields, alerting students and staff members alike.

She held Ichigo's top half of the uniform in one hand, pulling him along with the other, and when they had finally reached the Meeting Hall, she threw it over his bare shoulders and fastened it as quickly as physics allowed. _He's a child_, she thought as she clothed him.

"I give you _my own office_ to change into your uniform and to mentally prepare yourself for the captains and I walk in to find that you only managed to put on pants before _taking a nap_!"

"These clothes fuck me up. Your uniforms have too many parts that need to be tied together," he said too calmly.

Rukia wanted to Hado-Way-of-Destruction his ungrateful ass.

Ichigo cooed her name in a placating tone that only angered Rukia further as she tucked and tightened and rearranged cloth on cloth, swatting his arms away when he tried to intervene.

"You call everyone 'Captain' or 'Lieutenant' or 'Commander.' Only surnames," Rukia reminded him.

"Getting in that one quick nag, aren't you—ow. The hell, Rukia, too tight."

In the last minute, Rukia tried to gain composure. _He saved you that one time, Rukia. Remember? Play nice, Rukia_—she reminded to herself as she reached up to his unruly orange hair with intentions to fix it. But what was meant to give her calmness instead offered guilt. It was aggravating to Rukia, sometimes, to think about how much debt she was in with all Ichigo had done to keep her safe in the past.

Ichigo's gaze suddenly turned dark at her expression. "Cut it out now," he ordered, pushing her hand back down.

"I'm not doing anything. Just fixing your hair."

"No. That face. Stop making that stupid face."

Rukia ignored him as she smoothened out his uniform with the flat of her hands, but was stopped by warm fingers around her cold wrist, slowing her thoughts to an abrupt halt.

"The obvious concern on your face is grossing me out, Rukia," he said seriously. "Stop worrying over me, it's disgusting. You've done so much already. It's time to mind your own business and take care of yourself."

He was finally in his blue and white student uniform, and his amber eyes caught Rukia's in a way that made things a little too intense for her liking. She knew what was coming next—could see it from a mile away—but before she could even protest, Ichigo pulled Rukia's hand close to his face and let the tips of her fingers graze his jaw.

"And thank you… _Lieutenant._"

There it was. Ichigo had been doing that a lot recently, thanking Rukia for things, and she still hadn't made up her mind on how she felt about it. But once again, a cocky grin burned onto his face and she hated him and loved him and pushed him into the room, feeling confident once again that Ichigo was prepared at least enough to charm the commanding captains in an admissions interview he was fifteen minutes late for.

He had worked with much less in the past.

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A/N: This is my first Bleach fanfic after the manga finished up, so I'm not familiar with what the community is like these days, but I still hope there's a supportive ichiruki community going on and good ichiruki stories to tell.

Reviews are always appreciated, and thank you for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I kind of know where I'm going with this (it's a story of feeling and less of action), but I'm just letting the story unravel on it's own so let's see what happens. Thanks for reading.

**Chapter Summary**: Ichigo fucks it up.

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"Well. That was… something," Ikkaku began, no effort in hiding the condescension in his tone. He dropped back into his seat at the end of the bar and promptly slapped Ichigo on the back. "That was _really_ something, Kurosaki. Way to go, man."

"You should write a book, Kurosaki-san," Yumichika suggested. He rubbed his chin in mock contemplation before offering a title. "_How to Take a Shit on 2,100 years of Shinigami Tradition."_

"_Volume 1,_" Ikkaku added.

"Yes, yes. With pop-ups perhaps?"

"Yeah, the one with Ichigo scratching his armpit as he answers the Commander's question about decorum."

Ikkaku and Yumichika hadn't been there, of course; only the captains and a handful of lieutenants witnessed the atrocity that was Ichigo's admissions interview. But it's not like Ichigo owned any semblance of privacy in Seireitei, and news travelled fast here—The Gotei 13 was just one well-oiled machine for communication. Not a single detail of the event had been glossed over, much to Ichigo's dismay.

"In what world did it seem like a good idea to take your pants off?"

"I didn't take it off!" Ichigo roared. "I just, like, adjusted it a little. It's Rukia's fault. She tied the goddamn thing too tight."

Rukia_._ Damn. Was he just waiting for the beating of his life. But what could he have done? How could he formulate profound answers with the lower half of his body going numb? If he could just… just _undo_ his hakama sash _just a little_ and then QUICKLY tie it back... "Excuse me," he remembered hearing himself say, before untying his pants and being met with blood-curdling uproar from the captains. It did not help that just before, Captain Unohana had simply asked him, "What _part_ of yourself are you most proud of?"

Ikkaku laughed so hard he fell over his chair.

"Rukia's going to kill me," Ichigo groaned, rubbing his face defeatedly. "She's been riding me every night for the past week with this interview crap."

The cup of sake in Ichigo's hand spilled over the table as someone's weight pushed into his back. "What'd I just hear? Who's been riding you al'night?"

"Kuchiki Rukia," Yumichika supplied, causing Lieutenant Matsumoto Rangiku to howl in delight. "Thatta boy, Kurosakayyy! You warm that icy bitch up nice and right, heh? C'mere." The lieutenant's hand snaked around Ichigo's neck and pulled him close, his shoulder wedged between her breasts so she could slur right into his ear. "Hey," she started, but tilted her face away from Ichigo to burp before proceeding, "Is that why yer interview was shit?"

"Go away, Rangiku." Ichigo warned, attempting to shimmy his shoulder out of the lieutenant's chest. "I can do without hearing Toshiro's critiques right now."

"I can't," Ikkaku intervened. "I would _love_ to know what Hitsugaya-taichou had to say. Sit, Matsumoto!"

The lieutenant draped her arm over Ichigo's shoulders for support. "You can ask him yourself, skinhead. He's heading here with Ichigo's girlfriend right now." She raised a glass. "I'm just pre-gaming."

Ichigo groaned once again. He was delusional to think he could catch a break that night. He wondered how best to prepare for Rukia's appearance. No doubt she was bringing her cold fury along. Starting with an apology generally seemed like the right thing to do in most cases, and in his experience, angry Rukias liked submissive Ichigos to get straight to the point. _Rukia, I'm sorry you're going to be a demon mother who can't clothe her kids without suffocating them—_no_. _No, that… that didn't seem right._ Rukia, I'm sorry your teaching skills are shit, or else I would have done better. _Sure, that could do.

Ichigo continued to revise his apology until Rukia appeared at the entrance with the 10th Division's captain. He was so unnerved he shot up from the stool bar.

Rukia and Toshiro were out of their officer uniforms, a seemingly successful attempt to blend in as civilians. The captain looked nothing more than a moody boy, easily able to pass as a classmate of his sisters in the living world (and other than the fact that he was a child in a sake house, he looked alright).

But Rukia, what the hell.

He couldn't look her in the eye, but at a glance he noticed the fatigue on Rukia's face. They had only been in Seireitei for two weeks and it seemed like Rukia had come back from battle. Maybe all those nights coaching Ichigo had finally caught up to her. And he still screwed up the interview.

_Damn._

The guilt surged through his whole body as they made their way to the bar.

"Yo," he started.

Rukia eyed him carefully, before looking away. "Where's Renji?"

Ichigo bristled at her deflection.

"Kurosaki," the young captain greeted. "Nice to see you with your hakama still on."

"Yeah, yeah."

Ikkaku answered Rukia's question. "Abarai's busy, which is probably why the Ryoka is here drinking with me."

Ichigo slumped back into his seat, deciding not to explain that he chose Ikkaku as a drinking companion because he knew he would take him to the grimiest, lowliest, most distant bar from Seireitei in an effort to avoid any self-respecting Captain from showing up (and Yumichika kind of came with the deal). But he underestimated Rangiku's lack of refinement, and the influence on her captain to lure him into any undignified piss hole.

Ichigo poured sake into his cup and placed it in front of Rukia as she took her seat next to him, not yet ready to turn her way and look her in the eye. It wasn't cold fury she brought with her, he concluded. It was the cold shoulder. His stomach churned at the mere idea of disappointing her. He wondered for a moment if he would ever be able to cut away from the power she veiled over him before blowing a breath at the table and turning in her direction.

Rather, he found her staring hard at the cup of sake he had set down for her, incredibly flushed in the face. Anger? No… Something else. He took notice of the silk scarf she had pulled over her hair and figured that this was probably a good time time to apologize.

He tugged her scarf down instead.

"Hey!" she said as she fumbled for the cloth. "Careful, it was my sister's."

"What the hell are you doing? Your hair is black, Rukia, like 50% of the population. You're as inconspicuous as they come."

'Inconspicuous.' Impressive. You use big words like that in your interview?"

_Shit._

"I'm from around this area, fool. People would know who I am, and I've got too much to deal with right now for confrontation tonight."

"Afraid they'll recognize the thieving little girl from Hanging Dog?"

Rukia scoffed as she took a sip of his sake. "You really know nothing, do you?"

"Enlighten me," Ichigo incited.

"No. Not now, at least." She finished the cup and set it down before calling Toshiro's attention.

At the subtle nod of the captain's head (uh, weird), Rukia pulled Ichigo away from the loud rumble of conversation and outside to the front of the bar, where only a weak flame of the pub's lamp illuminated Rukia's face. As if Rukia was hard enough to read as it was. Her utter talent for discretion was a real pain in his ass most of the time, all cold composure and control over her body. But Rukia rarely ever looked flustered.

Rukia placed her hand on his forearm. "I'm only going to say this once, okay?"

"Whatever," he complied, bracing himself.

"And then never again."

Ichigo simply made a face as response.

Rukia took her time. "You…" Rukia started, but stopped, apparently not liking how she started. "You—"

Her clutch on Ichigo's forearm tightened. Rukia was obviously battling some sort of frustration inside, the right words lost on her. Surely the captains had not only berated his performance earlier that day, but Rukia's competence as a mentor as well. Only an asshole would allow Rukia to sacrifice all her time and mental energy just to make her look like a fool.

"You honor me," she said.

Ichigo stilled himself. "What?"

Rukia frowned. "I said I was only going to say it once."

"You're just fucking with me."

But Rukia's face was full of conviction. After some silence, he tested slowly, "I took off my pants, Rukia."

"Yeah, because you're an idiot. I can't teach genetics out of you." She let out an angry sigh. "I expected it to be rocky. But whatever you said in there impressed the captains enough that they had been complimenting me on a job well done. And so… I'm incredibly proud of you."

The expression on Ichigo's face did not seem to please her. "Baka! I'm trying to say congratulations! What's with that stupid face?"

Ichigo fixed himself into the biggest grin, and started laughing in disbelief. Rukia began to laugh as well.

And since Rukia had not been one for hugs, at least not one to offer them to him, he was unprepared for Rukia jumping up and fiercely wrapping herself around his neck, almost choking on her own happiness. "You're such an idiot!" she gasped, tears in her eyes, laughing hysterically. The sound of it all overcame him and Ichigo could find no other proper response than to laugh back, tightening his hold on her.

It was a while when he finally set her back down, and Rukia wiped away the tears in her eyes, trying to catch her breath.

"Ahh, you're going to be a pain in my ass all summer."

"Don't pretend you're not going to enjoy basking in all the glory of being my mentor," Ichigo teased, still laughing and jabbing at her side.

"Yeah," she chuckled. "About that. I'm actually stepping down from your mentorship."

Ichigo refused to recognize the blow in his side as disappointment.

Rukia explained. "Ukitake-taichou's illness tends to get worse in the summer, with all the heat. I need to make priority of the di—"

Ichigo shook his head. "Lighten up, Rukia. I understand."

Rukia grinned. "Well, enough of that. Just be happy, you idiot. You have a lot ahead of you. Even for a summer, the Shinho Academy shows little mercy for those who don't take it seriously. "But until then," Rukia grabbed his hand, "you enjoy your night, _Ryoka_," she teased.

Ichigo made a noise at the mention of that name. "Think Ikkaku will ever stop calling me that?"

"When hell freezes over, possibly."

"Think Shirayuki can do any favors for me?"

Rukia laughed, and it took everything inside of Ichigo to not beam at the fact that he had finally said something right. But then Hitsugaya appeared from the entrance of the Pub, only giving a sideways glance to Rukia that seemed to have meant something of significance (again, what the hell), because she let go of Ichigo's hand and cleared her throat.

"You're going to do great. Don't miss me too much."

Ichigo didn't even know if he could promise that, and since he was never one for making promises he couldn't keep, he simply tugged Hisana's scarf further over Rukia's head and let her step around him and away to Seireitei.

He couldn't help but feel that Rukia had left him in the dark about a lot of things lately.

He shook the worry away as he heard the uncouth and unrefined yelling from his friends back at the bar. For now, he had news to tell.

He had something to rub in Ikkaku's ugly face.

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A/N: Just a warning: this story is in the backburner since I have other multifics in higher demand. So I'll upload whenever I can but forgive me if it's few and far between.

Also I got a review from a guest reader and thank you very much for trying my story out. And even though you're probably not reading this, I just want to say I agree with the fragmentation and lack of flow of chapter 1, it's pretty rocky and rushed. Idk I think I was going for it to seem kind of montage-y but I guess I didn't execute it properly. I'll keep that in mind for future chapters. Thank you for the enlightening critique. Regarding the placement in the timeline I don't know what to tell you haha this story doesn't fit anywhere, but best believe I'm still gonna try shoving it somewhere. The reason why it's not set farther into the future is a very simple reason: I never read that far lol. But thank you for giving my fic a chance, I'm always grateful for that.

Please review! I appreciate the feedback immensely. (Also ideas are welcome!)


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